Housecarls
by Charis77
Summary: The housecarls of Skyrim meet up at Breezehome to relax, chat and complain about the person they're all sworn to obey: the Dragonborn.


Argis the Bulwark threw back a pint of Argonian Ale to the cheers and laughter of his companions. He joined in after plunking his tankard on the table, his hearty guffaws nearly shaking the walls of the small dwelling. He noticed Lydia sending him an evil eye, even though she giggled along with the others.

"What?" he boomed out, smiling devilishly at her.

"Argonian Ale? Isn't that for Brenuin?"

Argis raised his eyebrows, attempting to appear innocent. "Your point?"

"You _know_ it was intended for him." Lydia always saw right through him.

Argis flashed a roguish grin. "Then DB shouldn't have asked me to carry it, should he?"

Several groans ushered forth simultaneously from the other occupants of the table.

"We come here to relax, Argis. Don't remind us of our broken backs." Iona's deadpan stare bore into Argis but he didn't flinch.

"What will you do when he wants it back?" Jordis challenged. Argis shrugged at the pale, blonde Sword-Maiden sitting across from him. "Will you make up an excuse?"

"All of you know he can't keep up with half of his loot. It's been so long since he gave it to me anyway, he probably forgot all about Brenuin."

"DB _never_ forgets," Calder asserted from the end of the table. "Once I carried this letter for weeks, then he up and wants it when we reach Solitude."

"Calder is right," Jordis agreed, but still turned to the housecarl at the end of the table with an unhappy expression. "But you shouldn't call him DB, any of you. It's disrespectful."

"Oh come on, Jordis. Lighten up," Iona intoned in her even voice. "He's not here, is he?"

Jordis looked to Lydia sitting to her left and at the other end of the table from Calder. "What do _you_ think?"

Lydia clenched and unclenched her jaw, thinking. Whenever they argued, they turned to her for guidance. When they'd first begun meeting together, she'd felt uncomfortable with the authority the others gave her. Maybe it was because she alone had accompanied DB—the Dragonborn—the longest.

She remembered being assigned to her Thane like it was yesterday. She'd been called to Dragonsreach by her Jarl, then been given over to the Dragonborn as his loyal housecarl. She'd sworn to protect him, to follow him, to do whatever he asked. And she had, through caves and mines and castles and so many barrows she lost count. Quest after quest, she'd done her duty and then some. And then, just like that, he'd dismissed her, claiming he only wanted to test the battle skills of a new housecarl he'd obtained.

Lydia remembered how miffed she'd felt, insulted he'd drop her so easily and for another woman as well—Iona. She recalled questioning inside what Iona had that she didn't. But she was his housecarl, sworn to submit even to his whims, so she'd left and gone to Breezehome, the Dragonborn's home in Whiterun. The days wore on as she spent her idle time waiting for his return. She fell into a rhythm of cooking, eating, sleeping, the day in and out monotonous, driving her stir crazy. When she'd seen him come back through the door early one morning, she'd risen from her seat, hoping he'd decided to let her accompany him again and relieve her boredom. However, he only slept a few hours, then marched back out the door, uttering not even a word to her. His visits to Breezehome continued to be brief over the weeks, his only purpose to drop off more of his stuff and catch a few winks. Lydia was glad when he brought books back. They were her only companions for a long time, their words saving her from bitter ennui.

Once when he'd dropped by, she'd found herself in a conversation with Iona, her jealousy ripe causing her words to be unnecessarily sharp. However, Lydia found her envy diminishing over the course of their discussion. She'd formed an unexpected bond that day as they swapped stories detailing the pains inherent in following the Dragonborn all over Skyrim. He was tireless, traipsing back and forth like a never-ending Dwemer machine into every habitable place they passed and pilfering every valuable object he could get his hands on. He sold most of the objects to add to his ever growing pile of coins. Lydia had often contemplated why he wanted so much gold in the first place. Iona hinted at his reason that day he'd returned to Breezehome, telling Lydia his next destination was Markarth where he intended to purchase a home. Another one? He already had two, the one in Whiterun and the one in Riften. Who needed three? Even two was more than enough. Lydia had pondered aloud and Iona had surmised he intended to store even more loot. He wouldn't quit until he'd raided every trove in Skyrim.

So it was that the next time the Dragonborn showed up in Breezehome two weeks later, he came with Argis in tow. Iona, Lydia assumed, waited as bored as she back in Riften at Honeyside. Lydia found Argis to be a bit single focused, his mind on battle and little else. Still, she couldn't help but feel a tiny flutter as she ran her eyes over his toned biceps.

Next came Jordis, a housecarl assigned to the Dragonborn as Thane of Haafingar. Lydia understood Jordis. She was proud Nord to the hilt. A little over the top at times, but Lydia assumed that came from living in Skyrim's capital.

Last had come Calder from Windhelm, a young housecarl with a morose nature and slightly comic bushy red sideburns. After Calder, something else seemed to draw the Dragonborn's attention and he stopped collecting houses and housecarls like they were going out of style. He even decided to run off on his own for awhile and that was when their meetings had first begun.

The Dragonborn had shown up at Breezehome with Argis again, stashed several valuables, slept for eight hours, jumped out of bed (he always seemed to go from laying down to standing up in a split second), ordered Argis to stay put and then ran out the door, fully equipped for battle, potions stashed all over his clothing. Lydia smiled subtly as she remembered Argis' dumbfounded look. Lydia had tried to alleviate any discomfort by making a joke about the Dragonborn's headstrong ways, leading Argis to laugh and tell her a story of the Dragonborn's unflagging insistence that they climb a mountain without a path even though it was obvious they couldn't scale it. He'd also complained that he'd _had_ to follow, as a housecarl should. They'd told other stories then, far into the night, laughing, sighing, enjoying being understood. Lydia had gazed across the fire at Argis, his mismatched golden and pale blue eyes and swirling tattoo on his right cheek less ferocious now that he'd let his hair down. Lydia discovered in Argis a needed release for her frustrations and a welcome companionship. That was when it had occurred to her that maybe all of the Dragonborn's housecarls needed time together. They needed a safe place to set the stress of the Dragonborn's demands aside and be with those who understood them like no others.

Lydia glanced around the table at the four other people that had become her close friends. The Dragonborn had run off again alone three days ago. She'd sent the couriers the moment she knew his plans and her friends had traveled eagerly to Breezehome, grateful for company and glad they wouldn't be forced to wait for their Thane's return shut up in their respective houses.

"What he doesn't know won't kill him," Lydia finally responded, a playful smile on her lips.

"Here, here!" Argis bellowed out, with murmurs of agreement from everyone but Jordis who sighed loudly in disapproval.

"He still might want it back," Calder said, reminding them of how their disagreement had started in the first place.

"So what?" Iona challenged. "He wanted an apple pie back he'd given me to carry once. Seriously? I'd already eaten it. When he didn't find it, he concluded he must have left it somewhere else. He won't even know Argis drank it."

Jordis sighed in exasperation and Argis growled at her. "Like you can talk! He's lost _you_ more than once."

Jordis rose to her full height, glaring at the bulky man across from her. "So I get sick of following him sometimes. Don't we all? Who can blame me? But I still have every single thing he's asked me to carry."

"I'm sworn to carry your burdens," Lydia spoke mechanically. The eyes at the table turned to her and sudden laughter flowed through Breezehome. Lydia smiled widely. Her words had produced their intended effect. Everyone, even Jordis, couldn't help but chortle at the phrase, one they all knew too well. Her joke broke the tension and calmed the argument. As the laughter faded, Argis spoke again.

"Do you know what I hate? We never get the credit for anything we do for him."

There were murmurs of assent, even from proud Jordis. Iona snorted derisively. "I'll say. Whenever we show up in a city, it's Dragonborn this and Dragonborn that. You know how many times I've almost lost my life? And not a thank you from him or anybody."

"What we get is a fine 'Time to part ways.' You know what I'd give to tell _him_ that, just once?" Calder grumbled.

Lydia fingered her drinking cup and looked knowingly to the end of the table at Calder. "You'd never do it."

Calder slapped his palms on the table and pushed back in his chair. "Naw. You're right. But I can't help thinking it. Can't help wondering what he'd do."

"He wouldn't know what to do," Jordis declared. "It's clear he doesn't think any of us will ever desert him, that we're slaves tied to his every move. And you _all_ know it's true." Her furious eyes stared down everyone at the table in turn. Argis met her gaze, Calder turned away, Iona blinked, Lydia smiled.

"We're true Nords," Lydia said, her voice soft, but noble. "We're loyal to our jarls and thus, loyal to our ever pressing, sometimes infuriating DB."

"Lydia's right," Iona admitted, picking up her cup and taking a swig. "Our lot in life is to follow and obey. Nothing more."

"Don't forget fighting," Argis added.

"That goes without saying," Iona returned. She smirked. "How many of you fought a Dragon Priest?" Voices guffawed and spoke all at once around the table.

"Alright!" Lydia called out, hushing the clamor. "Name them." She pointed to Argis.

"Morokei, Rahgot and Hevnoraak."

"Otar and Vokun," Jordis said.

"Volsung," Iona spoke with mild disapproval.

"Krosis," Lydia said.

Calder swallowed, then said sheepishly, "None of the above?"

Argis guffawed and slapped Calder on the back, causing him to slosh ale from his cup onto the table. "That's what you get for coming last."

"You didn't miss out on anything," Lydia tried to comfort Calder who looked sorely disappointed.

"Except glory!" Argis cried out, drinking from his tankard again.

Lydia stared him down, but he winked at her. Ugh. Argis knew she could never escape his boylike charm. She tried to hide her grin and failed.

"I fought the most _and_ the worst, so I win!" Argis proclaimed.

"The worst? That's debatable," Jordis pointed out and another argument ensued as they relived their adventures trying to decide which Dragon Priest had pummeled which of them the most. Their argument came to no conclusion, and ended when Iona asked confusedly, "Why does DB want all their masks anyway?"

Blank looks passed around the table. Calder shrugged. "Who's to say? He never tells _me_ why he does what he does. Does he tell you?"

Everyone shook their heads. "DB never tells," Argis grumbled. "He commands."

"So he does," Lydia agreed good-naturedly. She of all of them was the least offended by the Dragonborn's ways. Months of observing him had tempered her resentment. She now found her plight as a housecarl far more amusing than frustrating.

"We go where he wants when he wants," Iona muttered.

"What _would_ he do without us?" Jordis asked loudly.

"He's doing without us right now," Argis reminded her.

"You know…" Iona began, running a hand over her auburn hair. "Maybe…since he's gone and all…maybe we could go on our own adventure."

"Us alone?" Jordis questioned.

"Why not?" Iona continued. "Don't we deserve our own fame? We could complete some of those quests he's forgotten about."

"It's tempting," Argis spoke slowly, halting when he caught Lydia's eye. She clearly disapproved of the direction the conversation had taken. "But if he came back and we were gone…" Lydia nodded, validating his words.

Iona let out a long breath. "We'd be breaking our oaths." She punched her right fist into her left palm. "Curse our vows!"

"He'll be waiting for us when he returns. We _must_ be where he expects us to be." Lydia's voice rang with authority.

Calder now spoke, his voice quiet. "Do you wonder why he didn't take any of us this time? You know what he's doing, right?" An uneasy silence descended on the table, most of the housecarls looking down or away, not wanting to answer the question. Lydia pushed her fears away and answered.

"We know."

"Destiny," Iona snorted. "What does anyone know of his destiny?"

"_He_ knows," Jordis returned, her blue eyes severe.

"He guesses," Calder clarified.

"He told the Greybeards he knew. I believe him." Jordis' words were spoken with utter loyalty and conviction.

"Why didn't you _make_ him take you?" Argis spat out, looking angrily at Calder.

Calder pushed back in his seat like he wanted to hide. "He just…jumped up on the dragon…I mean, I tried to follow, I did, but…it was like my legs were locked in place. I couldn't move. And then the dragon was flying with him on its neck and he was gone."

"Fear," Argis snorted.

Calder bowed his head and Lydia came fiercely to his defense. "It _was not_ fear. I've been in the same situation. Sometimes you _can't_ follow him. I'm with Jordis on this one. I think sometimes his destiny is so strong it calls him alone. When destiny wants him so badly, we're banished from his side. He has to achieve some things on his own."

Argis considered Lydia for a moment, then turned his head to Calder. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Calder, who had looked gratefully across at Lydia, nodded once to Argis, his insult forgiven.

"What if he doesn't defeat Alduin?" Iona's voice came out solid, but barely audible.

"He will," Jordis insisted with conviction.

"But if he doesn't…"

"Then we all die," Argis declared, "But _I_ won't go down without a fight."

Lydia bit back her smile. It wasn't right to make fun of Argis when the conversation had turned to such a somber topic. But she doubted even Argis could fight off the end of the world for long and yet, she appreciated his fiery passion.

"And _he_ dies," Lydia whispered, the thought coming to her all at once and causing her gut to twist.

Silence reigned for a minute or so, each face deep in thought as they recalled moments they'd traveled and fought next to their Dragonborn's side. Iona eventually broke the silence. "You know, he's really not that bad. You can't say he doesn't take care of us." She reached to her side and unsheathed a golden dagger almost a foot long. "He gave me this, not just to carry, but to protect myself. It's served me well."

A ringing sound cut the air as Argis drew a long black sword shining with a greenish light. "He didn't keep this for himself even though it was enchanted."

Jordis patted her own sword at her side. "He knows I like ancient Nord weapons. This must be hundreds of years old. It's the first weapon he armed me with."

Calder sucked in a breath. "He lets me have whatever he drops around the house. He never yells at me that it's his, just let's me pick."

"I've got enough weapons to last me into Sovngarde," Lydia mused, thinking of the chest in her bedroom full of swords, axes and bows. "Look at what we're wearing," she added. Each of them ran an eye over the others. They were clothed in the Dragonborn's best finds—Blades armor for Jordis, Dragonscale armor for Argis, Dwarven armor for Iona and Calder. Lydia looked down. She wore Dragonbone armor.

"I guess he does care about us after all," Iona conceded quietly.

Of course he did, Lydia thought to herself. She'd known that all along.

"He'll come back," Argis muttered. "Destiny and all."

No one spoke a word but their silent thoughts of strength and goodwill flew to their Dragonborn as they wished for his safe return. As if thought could come to fruition, a sudden whoosh of air rushed over the five housecarls as Breezehome's front door opened. Mila Valentia stood on the threshold breathing heavily.

"He's…coming…Saw him…coming across…the heath."

Sudden tumultuous action took over the house as Lydia stood abruptly, rushing to a jar in the corner, drawing out a gold coin and stuffing it into Mila's palm. "Thank you, Mila. Go!" The girl departed as quickly as she'd come, the door slamming as she left.

Lydia turned to see the housecarls pulling on any helmets and weapons they'd relieved themselves of when they'd arrived. There were quick handshakes and a flurry of "Good to see you"s and "until next time"s and then a momentary pause as they stared at each other, the importance of the moment marking their souls. They knew his coming meant he was alive and Skyrim was safe. Destiny, it seemed, had won the day.

"You've got to go," Lydia reminded them, gesturing to the door. It wouldn't do for the Dragonborn to discover his housecarls abandoning their posts if only for a bit of socialization and empathy. They made for the door with thank yous to Lydia for her hospitality and willingness to host them whenever she could. The last to leave was Argis who stopped at the threshold, peeking outside to see that everyone had departed. He took a step back inside, wrapped a tight arm around Lydia's waist, lifted her up and locked his lips with hers. When he let her go, Lydia could hardly breathe. She always felt that way when Argis kissed her.

"No…time," she breathed out.

Argis grinned. "Don't ask the others next time. Next time's a date for us, got it?"

Lydia sucked in her lips, her eyes dancing. "Got it."

Argis placed her gently back on the ground, dipped his head in a solemn bow and exited onto Whiterun's main lane. Lydia pulled the door shut and walked over to a chair by the fire, stirring the cooking pot and trying to look nonchalant even as her heart pattered, a reaction to both Argis' potent kiss and the fact that her Thane was returning alive and victorious.

The door creaked open not two minutes later. She looked up, regarding the Dragonborn, a wide grin on his face and success in his bright eyes. She felt like she could have jumped up and down for glee or run up to him and thrown her arms around him, but she did neither of these. Instead, she fell back into her role, what he expected of her and said dutifully, "Honor to you, my Thane." As she spoke, she caught movement at one of the windows. Argis peered in and winked at her as he overheard her submissive statement. She widened her eyes, warning him to back off. He disappeared, pulling back from the window. Lydia looked back at the Dragonborn, now standing over a chest dumping various objects into it, including a strange looking staff. He ended by overturning a large bag. Coins by the hundreds slipped out of it, clanging against each other as they filled the chest. _More gold_, Lydia mused. _I wonder what he'll do with that._

After he finished, the Dragonborn walked up so close to Lydia she could feel his breath on her face. She stood still, meeting him eye to eye. "Follow me."

Lydia felt her heart leap. After so long, had he chosen her for his next adventure? Would her weapons see action and her eyes the wilds of Skyrim instead of this stuffy house? "I am your sword and your shield," she spoke evenly, though her blood pumped in anticipation.

The Dragonborn nodded curtly to her then made for the door, speaking as he went. "First, we take the masks to Bromjunaar. Then," he looked over his shoulder at Lydia, "I hear three more houses are on the market." His eyes shined with delight, the thought of spending his pilfered gains illuminating his soul.

Lydia swallowed. Three more houses equaled three more housecarls. She stifled a sigh. He'd take her along until he obtained another. Oh well. This was the life fate had dealt her. The Dragonborn had his destiny and she had hers, to obey and protect till death claimed either her or the Dragonborn.

The Dragonborn reached the door, then abruptly turned. "Oh…Lydia, I have some things I want to trade with you."

Lydia set her jaw. Destiny—to obey and protect and…carry. "I am sworn to carry your burdens," she said through clenched teeth, wondering if she shouldn't have been so glad to see the Dragonborn after all.


End file.
